


Burgundy C-Cup

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:43:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You ever do it in a nightclub, Detective?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgundy C-Cup

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on fanfiction.net in January of 2013 when I was eighteen and is being crossposted here with the rest of my work.

They'd gone out before, plenty of times. They've gone to various lovely, romantic restaurants for couples, high-end places with snooty servers, hole-in-the-wall places, family-run industries, every Chinese place within a five-mile radius of her apartment, and the local dives. They go to The Old Haunt so much that the staff is threatening to pool their money to buy a plaque and dedicate 'their' booth.

The problem is, they'd never gone out like that. He would like to say that it was because he had class, but the truth was going to a nightclub with the detective he shadowed on a daily basis was practically begging for a spot on Page Six.

But tonight, he didn't care.

_You ever do it in a nightclub, Detective? Hot, sweaty, quick?_

He had silently thanked whomever it was that made the interrogation room tables so high up. He was pretty sure that Kate was too busy trying not to look flustered to notice how all of his blood rushed south, and he was almost certain that she'd forgotten the comment a few minutes later.

He hadn't.

That comment--and the images that came with it--tortured him for the rest of the day. He'd been to plenty of clubs in his day (God, that made him sound old) but hadn't frequented one in a good few years.

Didn't matter. He was getting one Detective Kate Beckett into a nightclub if it killed him.

* * *

Yes, she had done it in a nightclub. She'd also done it in an alleyway behind a nightclub, in case you're wondering. She remembered the guys' names, though, and was pretty sure she could give a description to a sketch artist if needed. But, that was how she operated. Always about the details, observing everything around her. She'd always been like that, even before her decision to become a cop. It was just a part of her nature.

Those days were long behind her, though. They were a part of Dangerous Kate, Bad-Girl Kate… Stupid Kate. That Kate was young, and hurting, and angry at the world. Detective Kate was different--she was far from vanilla, but she certainly didn't go searching out a one-night stand in a nightclub.

However…

She was never going to tell him (ever) but she'd fantasized a few too many times about semi-public sex with Castle. They'd done it at the Old Haunt but that didn't really count, not in her mind. He owned the place; that was  _his_  office they were fucking in. So no, it didn't count.

But sex in a nightclub… God, the thought made her shiver.

The question was, would Castle go for it?

Who was she kidding? This was  _Castle_. He'd go for it hook, line, and sinker. Yet she was still struggling with how to bring it up. No matter how convinced you are that your partner will be onboard, it's still a little difficult to actually say, hey, let's have sex in a bathroom stall in a nightclub.

It was a bit of a dilemma.

Fortunately, it was Castle who brought up the subject. They were driving back to his loft in his car--otherwise, he wouldn't be driving, because he was  _never_  driving her squad car, not now, not ever--and they'd just turned the corner at 9th when he mentioned, just a little too casually…

"I think the interview with Tiffany went well."

"You did, huh?"

She wasn't giving him squat. If he wanted to proposition her, he was going to work for it. There was a pause as Castle considered what angle to approach this at.

"So, have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Done it in a nightclub?"

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you--Richard Castle: Master of Subtlety.

Kate shrugged. "Once or twice. It was fun, but forgettable."

She fought the urge to smirk at her boyfriend's downcast face. He was just too easy.

"Of course…" Kate laid a hand on his upper thigh. "The guys I did it with were pretty forgettable. Now, with the right partner…" She trailed her hand upwards.

"I'm  _driving_. Is this why you won't let me drive? Because you'd tease the entire time?"

She feigned shock. "Why, Castle… the word 'teasing' suggests that I won't finish what I started. And when I start something…" She leaned over as far as her seatbelt would allow, her mouth hovering a scant inch from his ear. "I always finish."

Technically she could have arrested him for breaking the speed limit, but she let it slide this time.

* * *

The club they'd selected had two things going for it; loud music was a given, so they hadn't even looked into that. But one thing that this club had was an upscale, but extensive, clientele--that meant crowds, but little chance of ending up on Page Six. When the senator's niece and two movie stars frequent a club, security tends to confiscate cameras.

The second thing was that this club had really, really nice bathrooms. They wouldn't win any awards, sure, but they were more hotel-lobby-style bathrooms than the usual graffiti-decorated fare. Normally, Castle knew, Kate would laugh at him for being picky but it seemed that she wanted this to be nice, too. She wanted this to be different from the other times.

She was definitely going to remember this time. He would make sure of it.

If they could make it to the club, that is.

Kate was wearing the slinkiest, thinnest, silkiest little number he had ever laid eyes (or hands) on. It was a dark wine red and so tight that it looked like she'd been poured into it. The material was darkly shiny, like some kind of metal, glinting subtlety in the light. The dress ran down the length of her legs, pooling at her feet, but it had a wicked slit in the side that provided him with tantalizing glimpses of smooth honeyed skin. She was wearing something--most likely a push-up bra--that was making her already mouth-watering chest look like Jessica Rabbit's. To top it all off, she'd done her hair in that wavy style she knew he loved, having it cascade down one shoulder like a waterfall of silk. It was as if she'd put a '40's twist on generic nightclub style, and Kate Beckett was rocking it.

"Castle?" Her lips were strained in the way they always were when she wasn't trying to smile.

He managed to find his voice somewhere in the vicinity of his feet, and cleared his throat. Keep it together, Rick.

"You ready to go?" He asked.

"More than ready." She strode over to him, and he got a good look at the heels she was wearing. They were bordering on stiletto, and had burgundy strips of fabric that crisscrossed up her legs. He had a sudden flash of her in those heels and nothing else, and had to think of dead kittens to reign himself in.

He seriously doubted he'd be able to last until they got to the club.

* * *

Wild-child Kate had done the dirty in several places a lot less upper-class than this, and with complete strangers, but she'd never gone anywhere with the sole purpose of having sex in that exact location. This felt a little different.

She briefly wondered if this was how people felt when joining the mile-high club.

Upon entering the club, Kate immediately began looking for the restrooms, but was stopped with a hand on the small of her back and another on her forearm.

"What are you doing?" She hissed.

"We're at a nightclub, Beckett. We're dancing." Rick gave her that adorably roguish grin of hers, a perfect cross between an energetic five-year-old and a charming bad boy.

It was a testament to how much he'd wormed his way past her defenses that she let him lead her out onto the floor with nary a protest.

Now, she knew Rick could dance. She'd seen it. Hell, she'd danced with him several times (the first being at that ball when he'd bought her a dress), and had never found his skills to be lacking. But she'd had no idea how dancing took on another dimension when you added the promise of sex to it. Suddenly, every touch branded and every breath was dizzying. Each time they pressed together it was a little too close and a little too long for propriety. Rick's hands never went anywhere that would earn him a slap, but his fingers dug into her hips like he knew she was his. She had to admit, she did her fair share as well. Kate Beckett was a tease, and a damned good one (if she did say so herself), and she knew how to dance – you can thank her mother for those ballet lessons.

At one point, the song changed from a bubblegum dance hit to something with a darker, deeper beat about a half-count slower than the previous one. Kate turned so that her back was against Rick's chest, slowly grinding into him. She felt his breath hitch but couldn't hear it over the pounding music. Grinning lazily, she leaned back so that her head was resting on his shoulder, her lips at his neck. For a moment her partner was frozen. Then, as if remembering that yes, this was happening, and yes, he was allowed to touch her, he slid his hands from her hips, one moving up, the other down. The one going south slid into the slit in her dress, dexterous fingers skimming up her inner thigh before slipping down again, slow and sure, up and down…

Kate nipped at his throat, managing to latch on and suck just above his collarbone while still grinding into him, keeping time with the beat. She was beginning to feel evidence of his interest, compounded by the low growl she felt rumble up from his chest and ripple through his skin. His kissed lightly along her neck, her pulse fluttering under his lips.

"Can we find the bathrooms now?" She whispered, scraping her teeth along his earlobe.

His answer was for the hand at her thigh to grab it, flexing slightly, while the other hand squeezed a breast. A daring move, seeing as someone might see, but she doubted anyone was paying attention to them.

"Lead the way." Rick's voice had taken on that lower, darker quality that sent little tingles dancing through her body. She took his hand and struck out, weaving through the crowd. The loss of body contact made her body whine, but she could still sense him behind her. His hand held hers strongly, securely, a reminder that he was following her, and would follow her, wherever she led.

She still wasn't sure what she'd done to earn that level of trust, but she wasn't about to take it for granted. Not anymore.

* * *

He honestly couldn't have told you how they got from the dance floor to the bathrooms, or even what the bathrooms looked like (Were they in the women's, or the men's? Did it matter?). His eyes were fixed on Kate's ass--beautifully outlined by that damned dress--and her back, exposed by the lack of fabric on said damned dress. The second he heard a door snick shut behind them, he slid his hand up her back to grip her shoulder, the other still holding onto her hand, and hurried her into the largest stall at the back. One of them, he wasn't sure, managed to remember to lock the door but then he was on her, pressing her against the smooth (tile?) wall. He silenced that teasing mouth of hers by sealing it with his own, and she opened for him immediately. He licked at the corners and raked his tongue along the roof of her mouth, tasting her, trying to get every last bit of flavor like she was an ice-cream cone--only she tasted sweeter than any sugary treat. When his brain reminded him that oxygen would be nice, he broke away with an almost obscene pop.

Kate's pupils were dark and wide, her lips bright red and shining, every line mapping her skin gone as her face slackened with pleasure. Her lids were lowered, heavy, as if she could barely hold them up. She must have read something amusing in his expression, because her eyes glistened and the corners of her lips pulled up into a cat-ate-the-canary grin.

"See something you like?" Her voice was sultry, the husky tone slipping through his veins and making him even harder than before. He pressed her further into the wall, resting their foreheads together.

"C'mon, Rick…" She nipped at the corner of his mouth. "Make me forget everything…"

He was a goner.

* * *

Kate loved being a tease, but sometimes she forgot that if she pushed him far enough, Rick would push back.

With a growl far more animal than human, he slid his hand his hand back through the slit in her dress, hiking her leg up around his hip. She arched against him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep her balance. She quickly brought her other hand up to unbutton his shirt, running her hand over his chest and cupping the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Their mouths clashed together in a mess of teeth and tongue. She gave a little squeak as Rick hoisted her up, and it was only instinct that saved her then, wrapping her legs around him before her brain could catch up. She quickly lowered her hands so that she could unbutton his pants--call her controlling, but she liked to be the one to do that.

Usually there'd be a bit more foreplay involved (although, she supposed, the dancing could be included under that heading), but this was going to be quick and hard and dirty and she was a hundred and ten percent for it. If they didn't get to the main event soon, she was going to combust from the tension racketing through her body. Kate rocked into him, rolling her hips against him. She could feel him pressed against her, only a thin layer of fabric separating the two of them.

"Kate…" He groaned her name, pressing his nose into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She tipped her head back, exposing more of herself to him. He obliged immediately, scraping his teeth along her throat before soothing the red marks with his tongue, making her pulse skyrocket.

"Rick…" She ground more incessantly against him, trying to get her point across without using words because, apparently, she'd lost all knowledge of the English language.

Luckily, they were good at silent communication. He pulled down his boxers and moved her dress to the side (she'd gone without underwear that night). She grasped him firmly, earning an appreciative gasp, and guided him to her entrance. He slid in slowly, making her shudder was inch after inch gradually filled her to the hilt. Always a gentleman at heart, he gave her a moment to adjust. No matter how crazy they were, he never failed to pause, waiting for her signal.

She gave him a peck on the lips, her breathing under control and her body relaxed. He started moving, his thrusts speeding up quickly as she rolled her hips in response, arching and thrusting along with him.

In a move she wasn't expecting, he undid her zipper and her bra clasp. She helped him pull the dress down and threw the strapless bra to the side. He rolled a nipple, pinching it slightly, and she keened, arching so hard that she bent backwards, leaving the wall for a moment before sinking back down onto him. He was relentless, giving no quarter in his quest to make her moan, to taste and feel every inch of her.

She could feel it building behind her temples, like a migraine but with the opposite effect. Pleasure coursed through her, rising like water behind a dam. She clenched around his length, rolling her hips so fast that they began to simply snap forward, all rhythm lost. Rick met her for each movement, his hands planted on either side of her head as he focused himself on moving in her, hitting that sweet spot over and over and over and over until she couldn't even remember her name…

The dam broke and she dug her nails into his shoulders, screaming. She thought she heard him roar but that might have been the blood rushing in her ears. Everything was buzzing and thunderous, a hive of electric bees and a river of golden pleasure, her senses overloading and clouding until she had no sense of who she was, where she was, or what was happening around her.

When she came back to herself, she was slumped against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She slowly raised her head and saw that Rick was breathing heavily, still recovering. She brushed her lips against his cheek and he opened his eyes. She watched as his pupils slowly contracted, the blue growing larger and shining out like beacons in a storm. He gave her a tired, euphoric smile.

"I'm not sure I can feel my legs," he confided, his voice hoarse from shouting.

Kate chuckled, letting him slide out of her and tentatively standing on her feet. Her dress was pushed down to reveal all of her upper body, his pants and boxers were around his ankles, and his shirt had definitely lost a few buttons. She had no idea what state her hair was in but judging by the bits she felt plastered to her forehead with sweat, she was pretty sure her curls were ruined.

God, she felt great.

"We better get out of here," Rick advised. "Before anyone notices." His eyes devoured her like he'd just had a full meal but was considering dessert.

They helped each other dress, but when a shiver shook her spine when he zipped her dress up, she knew they weren't quite finished with each other. She had a sudden, urgent desire to be back in his loft (in his bedroom, to be precise).

When they stepped out of the stall, they were greeted by applause.

"So much for anyone noticing," Rick muttered.

Kate just laughed, winking at a group of gaping twenty-somethings as she led her boyfriend out of the bathroom. She heard a male voice asking, hey, why can't  _you_  do stuff like that? This question was followed by a shockingly audible slap.

"Kate Beckett," Rick growled, crowding up behind her and putting his hands on her waist. "I do believe you were a bit of a vixen back there."

"Richard Castle," she admonished. "You know I'm a play-by-the-rules kind of girl."

His laugh reverberated through her entire body.

* * *

"You know the one thing you can't do with nightclub sex?" Kate asked, stretching above him.

"What's that?" He asked, slipping an arm around her and pulling her down to him.

"You can't linger…" She kissed his chest. "Or take your time…" Her teeth scraped his nipple. "Or tease…"

"C'mere," he growled, yanking her up to kiss her properly.

* * *

It wasn't until the next morning that she missed it.

"Castle?"

"Hmm?"

Beckett strode into the kitchen. She was wearing underwear, jeans… and nothing on top. Her hair was adorably disheveled, but the look in her eyes sent off warning bells in his head.

"Have you seen my bra?"

He thought for a moment. "Which one?" There was the black lacy one she'd worn the first night they'd made love when she'd shown up like a stray cat on his doorstep (that was his favorite)… there was the dark blue one with a bow in the middle… her workout pair… the nude one with a clasp that he could undo with his teeth…

"The strapless burgundy one. I wore it last night."

"You did?" He couldn't remember. Granted, he'd been a little occupied a the time.

"Yes. I wore it because it's a push-up bra and worked with the dress." Beckett frowned. "Did I put it back on after we'd finished?"

"Uh…" As a matter of fact, he couldn't say she had. Actually…

"We left it at the club," Beckett groaned. "I remember because I tossed it to the side after you undid the clasp, and I don't remember you taking it off again when we did it in bed later."

"Well, it was nightclub sex. In a bathroom, I might add. Things tend to go missing." He went back to flipping the pancakes.

Beckett put her hands on her hips, completely ignoring her state of undress. "Castle?" She said, that  _I have a gun and know three forms of martial art_  tone in her voice.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any idea how much that bra cost?"

It took a week of discreet inquires, but he got it back for her.


End file.
